Mayday! Mayday!

As I started to read Proverbs 31 today, my children stopped me and told me that today is the first day of May. I didn't believe them at first. Then I checked my wrist watch. Can you believe it? April is GONE. (Sigh.) Back to chapter one again!

When we were little kids, my brother and I used to pick flowers from our yard and leave them on the front door step of our dear, sweet, old neighbor lady, Mrs. Bird. We would ring her door bell, then run and hide and watch her find the flowers. Who knows? They may have even been HER flowers. But we did it on May Day, May first. I don't know how that tradition started, or if anyone else out there in the world is familiar with that tradition, but we loved it. I'm going to see if I can do something like that for another dear sweet old neighbor today.

Right now the pink and white dogwood trees and yellow goldenrod bushes are in bloom, as well as azaleas and the remaining late-blooming tulips. We've also noticed the spring grass weeds coloring the world with patches of yellow dandelions, blue forget-me-nots, purple violets, and tiny white weeds that look like a variety of baby's breath. The magnolia trees have dropped their blooms and this year's crop of summer leaves are popping out everywhere. The car is covered with yellow pollen and tiny flowers from the neighbor's maple trees.

I don't know what the world looks like outside your window, but I hope you can pause and take a closer look at it today, and thank the God of all creation for His beauty and His glory. Life might be swirling and racing at warp speed, or you might even feel like you're about to crash and burn. But I'm just going to pause and praise the Lord today for such a beautiful May day.

Out with the Old, in with the New, part 2

Why not pick inauguration day to start again, again? Ahem. It's amazing how much stuff can happen in such a short amount of time! I just wanted to get caught up on a few of the things, and we'll see how much I can write while I have no interruptions.

New Year's: It seems like so long ago, doesn't it? We had quite an interesting one. Back in November, I attended my church's women's conference, and was fortunate to win (just in time for our wedding anniversary) a gift certificate for a free overnight stay for two at America's Keswick for their New Year's Eve celebration. If you've never heard of America's Keswick (pronounced "Kezzick"), you can click on their name to go to their website. It's an 111-year-old Christian conference ground located not far from the Jersey shore, and it's primary ministry is the Colony of Mercy, a residential addiction-recovery program for men. The Keswick also ministers to the spouses and children of the men, and they have great facilities and I could just go on and on. Your best bet is to check out their website. What has impressed me most about this organization is it's commitment to the gospel, and the truth that the only answer for the problem of addiction (or any sin problem) is to surrender one's self to Christ and to be made a new creature in Him. I've also been struck by their apparent humility--as they don't seem to be ambitious about becoming some big and important conference center, but to simply focus on the main reason they began in the first place. If this sounds like a commercial, then good--I think they deserve any endorsement I can give them, and I'm happy to do it.

Old washing machine/"new" washing machine. All that said, we pick up the story: a couple of days before the big event, our washing machine gave its last performance, in the middle of a valiant attempt to conquer "Mount Laundry." Wile we were planning to use every last minute afforded us to prepare our home for overnight sitters, we had to include a $50 trip to the laundromat. (Sigh!) But we got our house in good enough order, and nearly all the laundry done before we left, and Enoch (and Brendan) and I enjoyed a relaxing time away to rest and to discuss our plans and goals for the new year (I'll hopefully touch on those in the near future). It would be nice to make this a recurring event. We returned from our brief mini-vacation, and by Saturday the 3rd, we had purchased a "new-to-us" washing machine for the price of two visits to the laundromat. I was back in the laundry business, and had no need to delay putting the new machine to good use.

Old water heater/new water heater. The next day, Sunday the 4th, as we were taking the Christmas tree outside, I noticed some water on the basement floor. Just a little. I wished that it was merely a result of the new machine splashing too much, but touching the tiny puddle with my fingertips confirmed otherwise. The water was warm. The 13-year-old water heater had given its last performance. After assessing and confirming the reality, we drained the hot water into the frozen backyard, and thanked God that I discovered the leak when I did, since we were about to go to bed! Since we had just freshly renewed our commitment to not take upon ourselves any more credit card debt, and we had also just freshly drained our emergency fund on the new washing machine, we decided to tough it out for the week, and wait until payday to come up with the funds for the water heater. By our good fortune, we all had taken baths or showers that day or the day before, and I knew we could boil water for any other hot water needs we would have. So we did it. And you know something? It was joy to do it! I think it was a blessing from God, and we actually enjoyed going through that trial, knowing that we were sticking to our commitment, and trusting the Lord to provide for our needs. And we just had a mindset to not complain about it. And we became so much more thankful for a warm house, warm clothes, food to eat, and running water--all those basic things that we sometimes take for granted--realizing how easily God could take it away from us and how important our hearts' attitudes towards Him are though it all.

So life is hard, but God is good. And life is a little crazy at times (for me right now it seems like most of the time), but God is good. And I'm so thankful for my husband and how God continues to use unique ways to draw us closer to one another while drawing us closer to Him. I'd call that a domestic victory!

I Should Write A Poem

I could use your help.

It seems that my ability to express my creative ideas is coming in direct conflict with my responsibilities as a wife and mother. What I mean by that is that the amount of time and energy and...TIME that it takes for me to write sometimes takes away from the time I should be spending being a "worker at home" (Titus 2:3-5). (Sigh.)

I'll try to explain what I mean. This time of year (autumn) is my favorite. I love the cooler air and clear skies. I enjoy watching the leaves change colors from day to day. This is the best time of year to go hiking and enjoy the beauty of God's creation all around. And I got to thinking about the fact that every leaf on the tree is like a snowflake: no two are exactly alike. At least I think so. I'm not certain about that little fact. But of this I am sure: the leaf falls from the tree only once. I think about that when I look at a leaf floating down and swirling in the gentle breeze. I was able to witness the one and only time that particular leaf made it's final graceful decent from the tree to the ground. And I can say thank you to God for allowing me to witness that once-in-a-lifetime moment, which I used to take for granted.

I know there's a poem in there somewhere, but I've got laundry and dishes and dinner and--the list goes on--and I don't have the time to dedicate to working it out into a poem. But maybe YOU can! Please feel free to post YOUR poem in the comment section of this post. I'd be honored to read it!

Paper, Paper Everywhere...

My parents were here for ten days, and it's taking me about the same amount of time to get back into the swing of things. Today was the first day we got Julien to school early enough to play for 5 minutes before the bell rang. And we all ate breakfast and read the Bible and brushed our teeth and took our vitamins and got his backpack ready to go without yelling or spanks or threats of spanks! (Big sigh!) It's good to be back.

I've finally caught up with my laundry (except for putting it away--that's on the list), and I even did a lot of ironing yesterday while watching the Philadelphia Eagles pull off a win over the Washington Redskins! Wonders never cease! I love my new iron, Mom! (Maybe it will be my secret ritual to help my Eagles win their games.)

But the major obstacle I must overcome is the mountains of paper invading my space. It's not just the junk mail. That's the easy stuff. It's the:

• junk mail
• Sunday paper (especially the ads and coupons that I hold because I intend to read/use)
• Papers from Sunday School from the kids
• Papers from the church bulletin (which I intend to read but seldom ever do)
• Papers from Julien's school
• Papers from the kids' coloring and drawing and projects
• Magazines
• greeting cards
• grocery lists

It is a constant stream that never dries up! And just like water recycles itself (thanks to God, who in His infinite wisdom designed it that way), we choose to recycle paper, which I think is partially to blame for the overwhelming abundance of paper that we possess! It all ends up in a brown paper bag to be taken away to the recycling receptacle, eventually. But sometimes it spends way too much time on my desk, counter top, Bible notebook, car, etc. before making its way to the brown bag.

So the goal for today: Get as much paper into the brown paper bag as possible. Maybe I'll take some photos for inspiration and motivation to get the job done. If only I can find the cord that allows me to download the photo from the camera to the computer. I think it's on my desk. Somewhere.

So. I have to sift through the mountains of paper today, sorting out the sheep from the goats (bills from the junk), and then proceeding to the more rewarding job of paying the bills (in theory), and then the even more rewarding job (which I never seem to get around to) of ordering my desk into a functional, manageable, organized space. So the first two goals are attainable. The third, I think need serious help. Stay posted.

Fishing on The Fourth of July

Rosalind's always ready to rise and shine

"A-fishing we will go,
a-fishing we will go,
I'll catch a trout
without a doubt,
a-fishing we will go."

I cannot take full credit for this new song I made up, sung to the tune of "The Farmer in the Dell." Many years ago, my brother taught this version to his children when they were going deer hunting in Oregon:

"A-hunting we will go,
a-hunting we will go,
I'll shoot a buck
with my good luck,
a-hunting we will go."

I taught the fishing version to my boys when we all went fishing on the Fourth of July. We got up early (5:30--which is "normal" for Rosalind), and arrived at our destination by six.

The rest of the gang still waking up

The perfect fishing hole

It was wonderfully overcast and gray, and actually began to sprinkle a little: perfect fishing weather. We met up with one of our good friends, Dale, and walked the quarter-mile from the freeway underpass to a rather secluded spot on Darby Creek in the outskirts of Havertown. We had been there once before, and I proudly showed the men the prize fishing hole I had discovered: over the flood bank at a nice elbow turn of the water, under a large tree, the creek bed drops like a giant shelf, and the deep dark water hides the bottom of the creek. Looking in, it was easy to see three or four large trout, one which appeared to be some kind of albino that looked to be easily 18 inches in length.

The kids' fishing area, on the other side of the log

The best fishing hole was at a great location, but rather difficult to manage with a baby and young aspiring fishermen with Disney-brand fishing poles. So while the men and boys surveyed the area and baited hooks, I waited with the baby on the main path, partially protected by a large tree, hoping the raindrops would soon pass. But the rain kept coming. After looking around I decided to take cover under the base of the tree, and I realized that it was accessible to a different area that would be a perfect place for the kids to practice their casting--shallow enough to walk in with no worries, and no obstacles to get snagged on, but unfortunately, not a single little fish in sight.


I schlepped all the stuff under the tree, and convinced the boys to help me set up "base camp" (to give the men a chance to catch the whoppers). Then we did a little "fishing," and had a few snacks, found some fresh deer tracks (I had seen a forked-horn there the time before), and had a grand old time. The "camp" was close enough that I felt safe to leave the kids there while I walked over to check on the fishermen, and even was able to sneak in a couple of casts before the typical yelling and crying started up again.

Happy "campers"

Rosalind enjoying her adventure

Once the rain cleared, we moved everything back over to the bank, and ate lunch on the purple blanket. After lunch as Rosalind slept, I got a few more chances to cast in a line.

These Cheerios are good, Mom

Two keepers

The men were using worms, and had switched to power bait, yielding two good-sized keepers. I decided to be different and baited my hook with frozen corn from Rosalind's lunch. After a lousy first cast, my second cast was a winner.

I could see the flash in the water as the fish violently swam in all directions. I felt the intensity and tension on the line, and my instincts from childhood flooded me with the rush of adrenaline. I pulled hard, hoping to not snag the line on the rock shelf, and reeled in as fast as I could. I was thinking, "land, land, get it onto the land," and "don't get caught on the rocks" at the same time, while Dale was encouraging me to take it easy and not reel it in too fast. No sooner had he said it, before I could adjust my reactions, the tension broke loose, and the line was calmly drifting again.

Rosalind being particularly photogenic

My ears faintly throbbed and my arms tensely shook as I closed my eyes, shook my head, and whisper-shouted, "Oh, oh, man!" I could hear Enoch and Dale asking me questions and telling me what I should have done differently while I reeled in a naked hook. Thankfully the hook and line remained intact, and I could quickly re-bait it with the corn I carried with me. I was eager to get my line back in the water before some small person had some personal crises that required some parental intervention. This time I would let the fish have a swim first before I landed him and made all the serious fishermen admire and envy me at the same time.

If only fishing with pre-schoolers were that easy. I did get a couple of more casts before being called away to my motherly responsibilities, and was a bit satisfied to see that the other fishermen were beginning to bait their hooks with my corn as I left.

Ready to go home and fry 'em up

By the time the problem was resolved, the men were coming up the bank, ready to gut the two keepers and call it a day, while I was thinking, "I only need about 10 minutes of uninterrupted time to catch that big sucker. Maybe the men could keep the kids happy for 5 minutes or so..." It was not to be.


gutting the fish

Fishing with the boys

I am thankful: everyone had a great time, we did have fresh trout for lunch that day, and I did catch a fish, even though it got away. All the rest of the day, Enoch kept reminding me of how beautiful that fish on my line was. "You should have seen it, Honey. Oh! It was so big! It was bigger than the biggest one. Probably at least 18 inches, at least! It was a beautiful fish..." In my mind's eye, I remembered it's flash, the vigorous and heavy pull on my line, and the brevity of the moment was gone.

That night as I lay in bed, all I could see when I closed my eyes was that deep, green water, and four or five large fish, one of them white, calmly waiting for something irresistible to come floating down off of that rock shelf, preferably attached to my hook.

2 fishermen under a tree